Histrionics and New Media in History: Sometimes It’s Better to Fail

As the mission statement goes in my Digital History course, it’s better to reach further and experiment beyond known capacities and consequently fail, rather than perform within a comfortable sphere and succeed. In the constant progressive search to present history using both developed and developing tools, there exists a clash between those that fear the mal-construction of history and those who wish to explore and present history in new mediums.

Of course, anytime I, or some peers of mine, hear about this struggle, our instinct is to grab these Luddite historians and shake some sense into them. Nothing seems more frustrating to the young and aspiring historian – especially those working in the fields of public history and involved with new forms of historical dissemination – than the ivory towerian who waves their finger and cries that no one is paying attention to their concerns. And, histrionics and new media are a major concern.

However, there is a dialogue between the concern for ‘good’ history and ‘exciting’ history. The problem is that some are too afraid of botching it up. Yet, it is from the failure that we often learn the most. This isn’t necessarily a failure in manipulating and reconstructing history – there are enough voices, if one listens, raising concern over ‘bad’ history. What we need to fail at is attempting to create new forms of presenting history.

An excellent example of these trials and tribulations is the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum in Springfield, Illinois. In a nutshell, the Lincoln Museum has employed the technological wizardry of BRC and their Holavision in an exhibit, Ghosts of the Library (Ghosts of the Library is only one portion of the museum that BRC designed. Journey, the most significant portion, is a life-sized walk through that allows the viewer to immerse themselves in the life of Lincoln). Holograms, voice recordings, and actors bring history alive for the audience who are not only forced to examine and understand why we study history, but they are also able to see and feel history in a completely new medium. Sure, these sound like gimmicks to attract and wow the audience, but are they presenting sound history? The answer is: maybe… It’s open to interpretation. A discussion group was created between the company BRC and historians (state historians, professors, and teachers). Concerns were addressed and an attempt was made to reach an understanding and develop a presentation that addressed both the complexities of the past and the need to attract and intrigue the audience. Now, of course, some are aghast with the presentation of history in this exhibit. However, there are others who are satisfied and enticed with the results. To learn more, see the Washington Post article, Histrionics and History.

Yet, what is really at stake here? What are the real concerns? Do we fear the dramatics and entertainment of history that may result in such things as a terrible historical-based film? Or, is it a showdown between the traditional methods and new ‘flashy’ ones? For me, however, what is of most concern is the audience. We must be primarily concerned with how our audience prefers to receive history. If we can present sound and interpretive history in a creative and new way, such as the Lincoln Library is attempting, then we must try. The only way to find out if it will work is to try, and possibly fail. Maybe the over-the-top dramatics of the exhibit may skew and warp history in an unfavourable way, but fear not, there are enough voices in both the field and in the ivory tower that will be quick to alert the presenters of their misdeeds. This history being presented is a part of the risk, but the greater leap is the attempt to incorporate new methods without the fear of failure.

On the Frontier with Memory and History

We live in a world where history can be familiar, comforting and liberating, but also a burden and reminder of an unpleasant past. Memory can serve this purpose as well. Memory is intrinsically linked to history, especially public history. In some sense, the history we offer and present is almost always a process of selection where we must choose what we will present (and consequently not present) and how we will present it. A simple comparison could be that between a museum exhibit and a monograph. A well-crafted presentation of history in an exhibit has the ability to impact its viewer with the history presented, the created ambiance, and the interpreted message. What the viewer takes away, however, is immediately open to any influence that may accept, reject, or conform the message read into the processes of developing memory. The same goes with a monograph on a historical subject. However, books have that funny way of often being considered eternal. A bookshelf or library represents our belief in the codification of ‘real’ history – ‘real’ history being what we perceive as the most accurate attempt at objectively presenting the past, with all its pitfalls and nuances (and yes, I’m aware of how lucid the term ‘real’ history is). The book stands as the link between memory and history and can serve the user to verify or adjudicate ones memory. Of course, this is an example of a possibility and by no means a definition. Museums and the like often attempt to correct memory and nostalgia, but are somewhat transparent in this process. The information, as stated above, is a selection and is often temporary. Memory is constantly transformed and reshaped and resists ‘real’ history, especially a history as transitory as an exhibit.

Yet, even our trusted monographs are often subject to a memory – a memory that is historiographical in nature and is both a creator and product of a history taken for granted everyday. For an example, one need only look to the most prevalent form of public history in Québec: the provincial license plate. The provincial motto printed on every plate since 1978, replacing “la belle province”, is “Je me souviens”, meaning, “I remember.” Our first instinct is to ask: well, what is it that the Québécois are remembering? However, what is dangerous about this question is that there is no single answer. This is both the poignant success of memory and the danse macabre it performs with history (the moment when the historian throws their futile hands in the air in nihilistic defeat). The answer is loaded with undertones and emotions. It can contain nationalist sentiments, a response to the defeat on the Plains of Abraham in 1759 and the crystallization of this moment and what it means to the history of the Québécois. Of course, this sentiment can be ripe with separatist undertones of survivalism that remembers what the English did to the French and how, therefore, the French of Québec are doomed to struggle to maintain their culture until freed from the yokes of Confederation. Or, it can simply demand that one not forget the past, a nostalgic reminder of a rich heritage.

The tricky business is the combination of the two; history and memory. When united, a selected history, as fodder that emboldens memory, can serve a purpose that is both ignorant and manipulative. In A History for the Future: Rewriting Memory and Identity in Québec, Jocelyn Létourneau explores how history and memory in Québec has affected interpretations of the past, which in turn affect society’s future. Létourneau proposes a change in the discourse that would establish a liberating history for future generations, rather than a perpetuating survivalism. This perpetuating survivalism is, in part, a result of the accepted collective memory. Memory is acting as the agent through which the user creates an image or idea of their past. It is through many sources that memory is established as history. Without access to and the use of materials that present an alternative interpretation, historical memory is perpetuated. Texts, monographs, teachers, and family histories in Québec are dominated by an interpretation that is engulfed by the notion of nostalgia and the survival of it, eternalized by “Je me souviens”. What exists now in Québec is a collective memory that is perpetuated by a school of historiography that resists alternative interpretations of history that would question the proliferated memory.

The license plate in Québec provides us with an example of how volatile public history can be, especially when it embraces and plays off of personal and collective memory. Although it may sound narcissistic, the public historian can act as a mediator between ‘real’ history and memory. It does not have to be our goal to crush or inhibit memory, but we should strive to present a multi-interpreted history that challenges memory and provokes the receiver to question and realign ideas. It is no easy task to challenge memory that has cloaked itself in history. As public historians, however, we must not only meet this challenge with already established methods, but also with the tools of new media on the frontier of (Canadian) public history.

Managed Message: The Culture of Secrecy in Ottawa

There is a lot we do not see or hear about that takes place in the day-to-day operations of the government. We, as the general public, unless actively involved in conspiracy theory and hacking, receive our general information from the media and maybe a few other sources. As such, the information we often receive is the sensationalized stories of outlandish behaviour on the part of the federal government. We hear about how Harper was paying an image consultant (I’ll refrain from any comment as to why this might be). And, of course, there was the Sponsorship Scandal which was brought to the forefront of the public eye when the Globe and Mail, making use of the Access to Information Act, asked for invoices vis-à-vis the apparent payment to an advertising firm, Groupaction Marketing.

Thanks, in part, to such established legislature as the Access to Information Act, the public has the right to request and view any information produced by the governing body that is in the retention of the federal government and subsequently the National Archives of Canada. Thus, the Globe and Mail opened up the proverbial can of worms when they asked for the invoices which led to the Auditor-General’s inquiry into the payments… well, you know the rest.

Sure, the media can often lack a poignant focus. Governing bodies have been embedded in a culture of secrecy for centuries now to avoid members of the media gaining access to information that may paint those in office in a bad light. However sensationalized a story may be, though, just scratching the surface can often result in further inquiry. It’s this deeper scrutiny that many talented journalists do that leads to the more important issues.

However, although such tools as the Access to Information Act, the openness of the Archives as a public domain, and the Accountability Act attempt to create a transparent and accountable government, the reality is we only see what is produced, and even then, what is produced is often only torn away from kicking and screaming public servants. Some would argue that this is a direct result of the attempt to make government more transparent – servants fear that they are losing the anonymity that is involved in operations of governance. Regardless, what is happening is a depreciating respect for the Archives as the national retainer of the collective memory of governance and a growing resistance from the federal government to give more power to the people. By this I mean: the more transparent and accountable the government is, the more knowledgeable we as an electorate become and therefore the more power we wield in deciding who will represent us and how we will be represented.

The federal government, with its myriad of departments and agencies, in the ever-growing world of e-government, is lacking the proper information management to document and manage the day-to-day operations of governance. In the higher departments and especially at the cabinet level, there is an increasing use of oral decision making and the use of personal email accounts to avoid paper trails of decisions and operations that could be potentially viewed by any member of the public. Resisting the Archives, which can potentially house information that may be used to evidence poor decisions made by the government, those in control of the creation of records are deeming these documents sensitive, regardless of its merit, or are simply not documenting actions and decisions to avoid the stain of bad governance.

This is not the ranting of a conspiracy theorist nor am I describing the emergence of a dictatorship on Parliament Hill. However, the withholding of information based on faulty or skewed interpretations of ‘sensitive’ materials or the simple absence of documentation threatens public security, health, the environment and the values and fundamentals of our social fabric as a democratic nation. Stronger information management led by the Archivist of Canada can result in the efficient and effective management of the records produced everyday. Tools such as the Access to Information Act provide us with evidence of the actions taking place within government and theoretically, when documents are missing, note is taken (re: Sponsorship Scandal). We must, as a society, ensure that those in power are creating records rather than avoiding them for fear of public scrutiny. Only a transparent government can truly reflect the ideals of our nation.

This involves a strong faith in the role of the professional archivist. At the national level, the archivist appraises the information coming from the federal government. What is kept will reflect the national memory. If the creator – the federal government – is manipulating or simply not creating information, they are producing a managed message that can have detrimental effects on the history and social memory of Canada.

References and further reading:
Speeches by Ian E. Wilson, Librarian and Archivist of Canada: http://www.collectionscanada.ca/about-us/012-210-e.html

Office of the Information Commissioner of Canada, Annual Reports: http://www.infocom.gc.ca/reports/default-e.asp

Office of the Auditor General: http://www.oag-bvg.gc.ca/domino/other.nsf/html/200406sp01_e.html

http://www.cbc.ca/story/canada/national/2006/04/28/account-060428.html
http://www.canada.com/vancouversun/news/story.html?id=65a7e594-a1c7-4990-8087-ade6e0067d6b
http://www.canada.com/topics/news/politics/story.html?id=cf2b9830-7185-4036-bf8e-f164fca973ca&k=7741

A Digital Savvy History: Interactive and Entertaining

In my digital history course, and in the field of public history in general, ideas of all encompassing digital libraries with embedded metadata that can link the researcher to just about every query with acute detail seems to be just on the brink of reality. When we discus the future of history and what it means to the public, we are constantly in search of new ways to present material – be it in order to strike a certain cohort’s interest, to make it maybe more entertaining, more encompassing, more detailed, more organic, more comprehensive, more personal, more interpretative, and less passive. Ok, breath!

Recently I’ve been discussing the possibilities of presenting history through a sensory stunning display. This, building on the ideas presented by Patrick Stewart, is an immense diorama used in an online interactive advertisement for Halo 3. Handcrafted figurines, machines, and settings, complete with smoke from tanks, explosions, crevices and visions of agony make up this battle/memorial. A linear camera takes the viewer through the display with stops along the way for video mock histories (for the purpose of the game, of course), personal anecdotes, and descriptions of characters, weaponry etc.

Now is where we build further. Imagine this type of setting, but on even more steroids than was given to the simple virtual exhibit to develop such an assemblage of creativity and handiwork. Imagine the possibilities that are presented by such a simple use of a diorama and cameras. But, and here’s the kicker, just for fun (and, of course, with an immense resource base, and as Patrick would put it, with a lot of caffeine) lets start adding on interesting ways to make this more of a total experience.

For an example, I will use the Seven Years’ War in North America – of course, wars don’t necessarily have to be the basis for an exhibit-tour-website-game etc; we could just as easily make this an adventure in the Klondike gold-rush, or maybe a companion to the voyages of Captain Cook, so on and so forth.

Using GIS we could create an interactive map allowing the viewer to search throughout the site to pull out menus on specific times and spaces. Embedded in each selection would be interactive videos - be it actors, animation etc. - telling a specific anecdote, story, or adventure in motion. Within these pull down menus could be search bars that connected the user to a digital library, collections, artifacts, primary sources... Anything and everything digitized and available would be connected and ready, without having to be stored within the site, allowing the site to focus mainly on the Flash, multimedia, and story.

This could be an RPG experience as well. As you move through the map, you move down into a setting, not unlike the Halo 3 interactive ad. Selecting on a character, you would have the ability to manipulate his direction and movement to survey different events. You march with a militia through the interior in real time; you are given examples of what it may have actually been like through animated videos as you cross certain points. All the while, events are progressing throughout the map. Wolfe and his British fleet are slowly moving down the St. Lawrence toward Québec City to attack Montcalm and the French.

Fast Forward to Québec City. You zoom in using GIS to select among a series of positions and times offered. Perhaps you are now a member of the watch at the citadel on the eve of the Battle of the Plains of Abraham. There’s the soft hum of a violin in the background, and as you tour through the citadel, you select different scenes to view videos etc. Not only would it be giving a narrative, but it would also allow the viewer to move on a microscopic level to experience a large breadth of information and events. Like a game, you could potentially spend a great amount of time manipulating a character towards an end point, all within the historical framework. Furthermore, at the users disposal would be a vast array of online tools to connect them to existing information.

As you may be able to tell, this would be very complicated and time consuming, to say the least. But, to imagine it and realize the possibility is intriguing.

The possibility to move about a map, like Google Earth, zooming in, selecting a space, then moving about the space on a microscopic level, interacting with characters and artifacts is unending. It could be complete with displays of films - i.e. Canada, A People's History - or games and actions that direct towards a goal that mimics an event – be it social/micro-history orientated or larger.

Like the McCord tool, you can select images, artifacts, maps etc. and add them to a folder or sub-screen (similar to a tools/items menu in a video game) to create your holdings. From here, you can build a profile of items of interest and create a database of intentions that would direct you to areas within the site that are related to the items you’ve chosen.

And, if we’re doing all this, let’s make it a social forum as well. With an RSS feed, you can monitor when someone has posted a comment, link, source, or added new elements. Imagine, and of course it would involve very savvy actors, but the ability to build on the elements within the map to broaden it by both time and space. For example, starting off with just New France, one could develop information on pre-contact, creating such sites as Cahokia or Stadacona. Then, spatially, add more to the west, opening up the canoe routes towards Superior and Hudson Bay. It could be endless, really.

Although the chances of a site like this materializing in the near future are unlikely, the idea summons endless possibilities to presenting history in new and interesting ways. Although some would shudder at the idea of history outside of the traditional and academic mediums, the reality is that many in the public sphere enjoy history on a level that is often in line with entertainment. If history, therefore, can be expressed accurately, complete with interpretations and reflections, then why not embrace and develop mediums that present it in this fashion, not as a replacement to established methods, but as an alternative to the ways in which we access and relate to the past?

Pumpkin Pie and Pioneers: Celebrating Thanksgiving in Canada

What does Thanksgiving mean to Canadians? For me, it’s a time of year where I throw on a plaid shirt and a pair of jeans and take a stroll. With a little red wine or cider I take in the smell of the grapevines in full aromatic bloom and marvel at the colour of the leaves – unfortunately its 27 degrees celcius in my hometown this weekend. But, this is no rant on the effects of global warming or what forces on this planet leave a young person such as myself already reminiscing, “when I was younger, I used to wear a sweater to go outside at Thanksgiving.” No, this is a rant about pilgrims, sort of.

It all began in elementary school. Maybe I had a very different experience in my village, but it was common for the young classes to don little black pilgrim hats made in arts and crafts class. Of course, the little tykes that we were, we thought nothing of it, beyond the fact that somehow Thanksgiving Day was linked to strange Europeans who wore somber black hats with little buckles on the front and shared a wonderful feast with local Indians and they lived happily ever after.

But, before all that and its relevance, ‘An Extremely Brief Synopsis of Thanksgiving in Canada’: The first Thanksgiving to be celebrated in what is now Canada was by Martin Frobisher and his gang of northwest passage seekers in 1578 in Newfoundland. The celebration was, in effect, a thankful meal for the safe voyage across the Atlantic (he never did find that passage). Champlain continued the tradition with the ‘Order of Good Cheer’ during those scurvy days at Port-Royale. However, even before the first Europeans celebrated Thanksgiving, the eastern woodland Natives of North America held large celebratory gatherings in autumn, often to honour the ‘three sisters’ of the harvest - corn, bean, and squash.

The Canadian Thanksgiving is an adoption of the Western European Thanksgiving which was a celebration thanking the Christian God for a (hopefully) bountiful harvest. This celebration, it is claimed, was simply an appropriation of the Pagan/Celtic celebration of ‘herfest’ (linguistic association, anyone?) - a feast celebrating the autumn equinox and again, the harvest. The date that we, as a nation, chose to celebrate Thanksgiving is arbitrary – settled finally by parliament in 1957 to be the second Monday of October. Now, in the United States, Thanksgiving occurs in November and is a celebration of the pilgrims’ first autumn in the ‘New World’ – also, for the fans of the NFL, it’s a day off to watch the traditional ‘Turkey’ match-ups.

So, to return now to the dilemma at hand; are the school systems in Canada blurring the traditions of two nations into one celebration at Thanksgiving? Maybe the powers that be, lost in the debate over the involvement of the Church in the public schools, panicked and decided to teach us the Mayflower and pilgrims story in place of giving thanks to the Christian God of the European tradition (this being one unlikely theory). The Loyalists also brought their own traditions – such as pumpkin pie and the cornucopia – to Canada when they left the Thirteen Colonies during and after the Revolutionary War. Although we share a common history, it is clear that Canada has opted for the European tradition of celebrating and giving thanks for “blessings of an abundant harvest” and in the twentieth century, “for general thanksgiving to Almighty God for the blessings with which the people of Canada have been favoured”. The Christian element, outside of the church and participating families, is no longer observed, but the tradition of feast and family is still widely practiced. Why not, therefore, incorporate a piece of Canadian heritage into the celebration – it is a statutory holiday.

Thus, I once again pose the question: what were the pilgrims doing in the curriculum that I was raised on? Is this story still taught? Acknowledging that to some I may sound as though I’m echoing the words of J.L. Granatstein, searching for a national history, but the incorporation of the pilgrims in a child’s celebration of Thanksgiving in Canada may skew their understanding of the country’s history. We are not lacking in a history that demonstrates the adversity, tenacity and courage of settlers who braved this land to establish a new home and tradition. So, when we reflect on the nature of Thanksgiving and what it means in Canada, we can consider many aspects; Frobisher and his frostbitten feet, happy to be alive, Native Americans celebrating the harvest and its link to the spiritual world, and pioneers thankful that the summer’s toil will see them through the winter. This Thanksgiving, tilt your glass to the pumpkin pie of the Loyalists, to the farmers of our past and present and, rather than a pilgrims hat, to the toques of the settlers of this land.

Quotations from: Canadian Heritage, http://www.pch.gc.ca/progs/cpsc-ccsp/jfa-ha/graces_e.cfm.
Reference for 'herfest': Baggott, Andy. The Celtic Wheel of Life. Dublin: Gill & Macmillan, 2000.

Lifestyles of the Not So Famous

As historians, we are often attracted to the enigmatic figure and the imagery that accompanies this curiosity. The advent of ‘social history’ in the second half of the twentieth century emphasizes this aspect. Historians became interested and involved in the lives of those who some would deem historically ‘insignificant’. However, the minor histories of ‘insignificant’ lives builds a significant window into the world of societies past. It is now popular to delve deep and uncover what little remains of these unknown figures in order to piece together an image of a specific time and space.

We are often interested in people about which we know very little. Imagery serves to further this allure. In my last post,I commented on the Unibroue brewery’s use of French-Canadian heritage to promote their particular brands of beer. In this instance, the key to success for this type of marketing is the use of enigmatic figures. Here, the enigmatic is impersonal which accentuates the mystique. When considering, for example, the icons representing the beer Maudite (the coureurs des bois and voyageurs), images of brave, intrepid and romantic adventurers come to mind. However, these mental images are derived from tangible recreations – by which I am referring to archived sketches, works by such artists as Frances Ann Hopkins, or re-enactments.

To again use the example of Unibroue and the enigmatic figure, I point to the beer, Chambly Noire. A soldier of the Carignan-Salieres stands proud upon the label. These soldiers played a significant role in the survival of the colony of New France in its early days. However, no faces remain except for the romantic images that have been created to strengthen the appeal. This one soldier’s story, at face value, would appear insignificant, but to access it would prove invaluable in the picture that we could draw regarding the collective history. The image becomes representative and having no true identity, the figure becomes larger than life.

In, Who Killed Canadian History, J.L. Granatstein argues that the popularity of social history in academia has served to diminish the study and proliferation of a Canadian national history. Granatstein fears the loss of the great figures and epic events that comprise our political history. Yet, we get a greater sense of our own history and social fabric when we study a past that is personal and emblematic of who we are. We need not disassemble the images that represent the enigmatic to achieve this aim. We should, however, include a micro-history that familiarizes our past in order to give a more complete image. Combined, these figures can be both larger than life, but also understood. For, if we are unable to make some sort of connection, then our historical figures remain impersonal and disconnected from our own collective history.

Reference: Granatstein, J.L. Who Killed Canadian History? Toronto: Harper Collins, 1998.
Image: Canoe Manned by Voyageurs Passing a Waterfall (Ontario), 1869, by Frances Anne Hopkins

History By the Bottle

There’s a beer manufacturing company situated in Chambly, Québec, called Unibroue. What they produce, aside from delectable suds, is public history. When one considers what we do in public history, things such as museums, archives and memorials are what commonly comes to mind. However, I doubt we’ll be doing any readings on the history of beer. The barman’s cough syrup (beer) is something many Canadians do not take lightly. We exude a certain pride in our appreciation and creation of distinct lagers. Aside from this stereotypical image of the stubby drinking hoser (shades of Bob and Doug McKenzie), the brown bottle has another avenue – history, heritage and culture.
The Unibroue company produces various brands of beer, all with their own unique flavour. However, it is not the flavour of these beers that interests us here (and if it is, see Unibroue), but rather, it’s what they are marketing with the beer – heritage. Each beer is named after an interesting piece of history or legend relating to Québec, with an exciting image on the front of the bottle and a little blurb regarding the title’s inspiration on the back. There’s Maudite, an homage to the legend, La chasse galèrie, in which a group of coureurs des bois make a deal with the devil in order to return home for the New Years Eve festivities. Trois-Pistoles, a town in the bas-St. Laurent region of Québec, depicts the church and the legend of its collaboration with the devil, La légende du cheval noir. Don de Dieu is named after, and shows an image of, the ship within which Champlain crossed the Atlantic and was later used to sail up the St. Lawrence River in 1608, founding Québec. The Carignan-Salières, the regiment sent to protect New France during the early settlement days, are no longer a standing army, but they still occupy the minds of the people through the beer, Chambly Noire. There are other beers in this flavour-filled historical line-up that can be seen online at www.unibroue.com. Each beer even gets its own page with a few words on brew methods, taste, and yes, historical relevancy. That’s right: for a brief lesson in important aspects of Québec’s history, just drink a beer. And just in case you were worried about what this beer company may be promoting, there’s even a bottle (Blanche de Chambly) honouring those who fought and died defending Lower Canada during the war of 1812 (challenging the misnomer that the French in Canada were American sympathizers during this war).
So what’s the marketing ploy here? Why decorate beer with heritage? In my opinion, it sells. Popular images of a romantic and harrowing past that remind a collective group of their unique heritage is an inspirational and ‘refreshing’ change from the traditional versions. We Anglophones do it as well. Beers such as Upper Canada Ale and Wellington play the historical card to add heritage to their beers, creating the idea of a traditional beer and appealing to the people of a particular region. I’ll even admit, I feel a little more Canadian when enjoying a frosty Upper Canada Dark Ale. I fancy myself a conspirator in the reform party, whispering of political change and responsible government over a pint in some dark tavern in 1837, not far from York.
What is of most significance here are the many facets in which the practice of public history appears. It’s all around us, whether we make mental note of it or not. Not everyone wants to go to the museum or even read a plaque in the park. As public historians, we must strive to create new and different ways to reach a wider audience. So, I insist you crack a Trois-Pistoles (9%!) dark beer, and enjoy the taste of history by the bottle.


Images from www.unibroue.com

Syrup, Hockey and Canoes

In considering a suitable title for my blog, I finally settled on ‘The Canadian Frontier’, a title borrowed from the late and influential historian, W.J. Eccles. The frontier Eccles was studying was the classic and fluid term referring to the geo-politico-socio boundary of contact and settlement in the ‘New World’. As an undergraduate, my course selections and research interests were dominated by this world. Now as a Public History Masters student, I’m learning to understand Canadian history in a new way and on a new frontier – hence my title. The theme of Canada’s origins and frontier will continue to rest on the back burner of my thoughts and resurface in many of my posts.
Public history as a sub-specialty is a relatively recent frontier in its own right. Public historians often present our past in a nostalgic form to elicit the interest of the general public (see Leffler and Brent, History and Its Audiences). In a sense, the public historian is acting as a promoter of popular culture through heritage (is not a sense of culture in part derived from heritage and history?). There are two fantastic coffee table books written by Canadian author Douglas Coupland, called Souvenir of Canada, (written in two parts). Coupland has arranged photographs, still life presentations, and numerous other images, accompanied by personal anecdotes, informal essays, and descriptions in order to describe a culture that is only Canadian. The images and words immediately elicit familiarity, contentedness and in the end, pride and maybe, if Coupland has accomplished what he intended, a warm fuzzy feeling deep down that only Canadians can feel (no toque is necessary, although when warn, one can include the head in this fuzzy feeling). And this is Coupland’s intention, to push Canadiana on his readers. Now, maybe that’s what makes him a little different from a public historian, in that we’re a little less explicit in our intentions when, say, we mount a plaque describing the awe inspiring statue of an anonymous soldier in Any City Park, Any Province, Canada. (This thought will be drawn out further in a future post).
When Coupland sets up a still life that contains a plastic orange container of Bee Hive spilling onto a table hockey set and in another still life, a photo of a birchbark canoe hanging on the wall, he is saying a lot more than what we may initially think. The only prerequisite needed in order to smile to yourself is to be Canadian. Syrup, hockey, canoes, the cultural significance hits us harder than a slapshot from Rocket Richard. Yet, it is the cultural heritage and history that these items represent which elicit a greater appreciation in, say, a public historian. Afterall, is not Canadian culture one great amalgamation of various co-existing cultures? It just so happens that in this example, canoes, syrup, and hockey are all gifts from our aboriginal friends, adopted and turned into national iconography with its own vast history.
Culture can be a very difficult concept to define and in Canada one might often describe being Canadian as simply not being American. But I say, and I think Mr. Coupland would back me up on this: there’s a lot more to Canadian culture laying just below the ice, if only we embrace and exploit (so to speak) our heritage. And I know many would disagree with me when I put it like that. The upstanding and objective historian that Richard Evans describes in In Defense of History would avoid pursuing a history that corresponds to present intentions, be they political, personal, etc. However, I don’t suggest we start manipulating or deconstructing the past to promote a Canadian culture. I’m merely proposing that history can be used objectively to present a past that can be embraced as culture. Personally, the idea of developing and promoting Canadian culture as a public historian is an exciting notion and I intend to further explore this particular frontier.

References:
Douglas Coupland. Souvenir of Canada, One and Two. Vancouver: Douglas and McIntyre, 2002, 2004.
Evans, Richard J. In Defense of History. London: Granta, 2000.
Eccles, W.J. The Canadian Frontier: 1534-1760. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1969.
Leffler, Phyllis K. and Joseph Brent. "History and Its Audiences," Public and Academic History: A Philosophy and Paradigm. Malabar, Fl.: Krieger, 1990.
Image from Souvenir of Canada

Test drive a blog today: available in sporty green?

After successfully overcoming the daunting task of creating my first blog, I tilt my chair in smug self-approval. Alas, I fear that what seemed to be somewhat challenging, navigating the unfamiliar realm of controlling my own online site, is in reality probably the simplest thing I will do as I face the new age of digital history and the infinite archive. I feel like the aging academic, at the end of his career, facing the push of the technologically inclined youth, longing for the days of pen and paper and the musty smell of old manuscripts. However, I quickly give my head a shake, remind myself of my age and decide to embrace the future and accept my role in propagating the wonders of the computer and it's online archive. At the worst, it gives me an online forum to ramble and write, regardless of whether I have an audience.